


Knick Knacks

by catmiint



Category: Pretend Wizards D&D Campaign
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-02
Updated: 2016-07-02
Packaged: 2018-07-19 17:31:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7371067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catmiint/pseuds/catmiint
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU: Moira isn't missing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Knick Knacks

Moira was missing.

_Again._

Every time Shira went and assumed she knew every inch of her family’s ancestral home, Moira went and discovered another cobweb-filled corner. Her sister may not be an adult, but she wasn’t a child anymore. Moira should be beyond such petty hide and seek games. Her sister should be more like herself—after all, Shira was _never_ petty. 

When she got her hands on Moira, she was going to—

Turning a corner, she glanced up to see Nettles standing stiffly with a glass of water in his hands. She hadn’t even finished her thought before he showed up, and the professional yet caring behavior helped sooth her irritation. Not that she’d let it show, or anything. 

“Thank you, Nettles,” Shira said with as much pleasantness as she could muster, gingerly taking the glass from him. 

Before she could open her mouth to ask him about Moira’s whereabouts, he seemed to vanish into thin air. She grumbled, running a shaky hand through her snowy hair. It was just like Nettles to take the brat’s side. Her grip on the glass tightened and some of it splashed out onto her fingers. 

Maybe she was in that fucking forest? It seemed that no one but Shira was concerned about the entire _forest_  that had appeared on the estate grounds overnight. The servants of the house shrugged and said it was the (missing) groundskeeper’s problem, and Moira thought it was _wonderful._ Honestly it made Shira consider fratricide if the Tom Tit Tot didn’t beat her to it. 

With new plan in mind, she made her way to the kitchen. Her sister was too much of an inconvenience to simply be hiding out near the front door, so Shira figured that she might as well take a servant’s entrance out to look for her. She was tempted to grab an apple to snack on, but that would give her away in an instant—if anyone was good at spotting Shira in stealth, it was her weasel of a sister. She closed the door behind her carefully although not as slowly as she would anywhere else, since she knew Nettles was good about keeping the hinges oiled. 

Dropping into stealth, Shira crept through the thick foliage of the creepy, probably fairy-related forest. She listened past the general ambiance of the forest, searching for any sign of her sister. Dweezil or Ragna or, honestly, any other of her companions would probably make a joke about listening with her big elf ears, but _fuck them_  because her elf ears were awesome. 

The sound of wood splitting caught her attention, and a bowstring being drawn taut followed soon after. Shira smirked, it seemed that her little sister was practicing her archery. She could have a bit of fun with this. 

She set the glass down on the mossy ground and formed a dagger of ice with the water. The rings on her fingers hummed with magic, and a bit of unease blossomed in her stomach. Steading her breath and adjusting the dagger in her hand, she slowly slunk towards where she believed her sister to be. The steady sounds of a bow being drawn back then an arrow lodging into the bark of a tree made Moira easy to find in the acres of forest. 

Ahead of her, an arrow found its way into the solid trunk of a pine tree, and Shira poised herself. When the next arrow fired from its bow, she threw her dagger and watched, satisfied, as the finely shaped ice knocked the bow out of the air. 

“Wh— _Shira!”_ Came her sister’s annoyed yell. 

“Maybe if you didn’t wander off into the middle of this fucking forest, I wouldn’t have to ruin your target practice,” Shira responded cooly, as she dropped out of stealth and stepped into the clearing. 

She lowered her bow, watching Shira with a critical eye, “You run off all the time.” 

“Unlike you, I have a _job.”_

“Oh, right, your _job,”_ Moira scoffed and turned away from her, stubbornly refusing to meet Shira’s gaze. “Running around sewers and almost being killed by fairies is such a _great_  job.” 

“And what would you rather I do?” Shira stepped forward, grabbing Moira’s shoulder and roughly turning her around.

“Uh, maybe not almost die on a daily basis? Yeah, that’d be great,” She said it in a bitterly sarcastic tone, but it stung like a slap in the face with how broken it sounded. 

Shira paused, locking eyes with her sister, “I’m sorry,” Her voice was soft yet raspy at always, “But this is all directly involved in Mon and Dad’s deaths. It’s too connected to just be coincidence.” 

Moira was silent in resignation. 

Suddenly, Shira remembered why she had wanted to find her sister in the first place. With deft fingers she pulled a small vial of pink water out of her cloak pocket. It was the sort of vial one would put poison in, but it had been emptied recently and pocketing a small amount of weird fairy water from her companions’ jars was a simple enough task. She held it out, urging Moira to take it, “Here, for your box of random shit.” 

“It’s not shit!” She exclaimed defensively, snatching the vial and clutching it to her chest protectively. 

Shira chuckled, “Sure, say that as much as you want, but I’m pretty sure an ounce of pink fairy water is equivalent to literal shit.” 

Moira stuck her tongue out teasingly, and Shira ruffled her hair fondly. 

Neither of them knew how they would have dealt with their parents’ deaths if they didn’t have each other.


End file.
